


White Roses

by Khylara



Series: Mania [10]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Peterick, Post-Hiatus (Fall Out Boy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22043449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: Patrick says good-bye
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Series: Mania [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1585624
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	White Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Again, my apologies.  
> Lyrics to "Wilson" are in there somewhere.  
> And...we're done for now. Thanks to everyone who stuck around to read my scribblings. We now return you to your regularly scheduled fandom.  
> Something happier for the new year, I promise.

Andy was surprised to see Joe waiting for him outside the church. "What in the hell are you doing here?" he asked as he gave his bandmate a hard hug. "I thought you were home with Ruby and her latest." 

"I was." Joe clung to Andy for a moment before letting go. "But then Bronx called." He looked at the drummer, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Did he tell you what happened? I couldn't get a lot out of him."

Andy straightened his suit jacket. "From what he said, Pete fell asleep in the porch swing and never woke up." He let out a sigh. "Which I guess is a blessing. At least he wasn't in any pain."

"Yeah." Joe ran a hand through his gray hair. "He was fine when we last saw him. Better than fine."

Andy shook his head. "No, he wasn't. He started having heart problems last year." At Joe's surprised look, he explained. "And the only reason I know is because we were doing that benefit for Florida last year and I found him backstage doubled over and having chest pains."

"Jesus," Joe muttered. "Why the fuck didn't he say something?"

"Didn't want to worry anybody," Andy answered, his own voice soft. "Especially Patrick."

A worried look crossed the guitarists's face. "How is he holding up?"

Andy shook his head. "Not good. From what Bronx says, he hasn't eaten or slept since everything's happened." They both sighed at that, too aware of Patrick's habit of blaming himself for things he had no control over.

Joe glanced around; the street in front of the church was filled with both fans and reporters. "Lot of people here," he commented, looking inside the church as well. It was almost full.

"He was loved by everybody," Andy said simply, checking his watch. "We'd better go in. It's almost time for the service to start."

Squaring his shoulders, Joe gripped Andy's hand briefly before letting go. "Have I mentioned how much I hate funerals?" he asked as they stepped inside and paused at the doorway to cross themselves.

Andy couldn't help but smile at the complaint. "Only about a thousand times since I first met you," he said as they walked down the aisle, heading for the first pew.

Sitting there, dressed in black from head to toe except for a white rose in his lapel, was Patrick. He was staring straight ahead at the flower covered coffin in front of him, tears slowly streaming down his cheeks.

Heart aching, Joe reached out and touched Patrick's shoulder. "Hey, man."

Parick looked up, a wan smile appearing on his face. "Joe." Getting up, he gave his friend a hard hug. "I'm glad you came."

"Wouldn't be anywhere else," he said as he hugged Andy next. _He's so pale,_ he thought, taking in the dark circles under his red rimmed eyes and the way his suit hung off him. "You look...good."

Patrick shook his head. "You don't have to lie, Joe. I know I look a wreck. Bronx had to practically force feed me toast and tea this morning." He ducked his head. "It hasn't been easy, this past week."

Andy put a hand on the singer's shoulder. "Well...we're here now," he siad, his voice firm. "Whatever you need us to do, we got it covered. Okay?"

Joe nodded as well. "Anything."

A grateful look crossed Patrick's grief ravaged features. "Thanks, guys." Together the three of them sat down as the priest began to invoke the blessing.

*****

After the service, Andy turned to give Patrick another hug. "Why don't you come back to the hotel with us?" he offered hopefully. "We could order a pizza and watch a movie? Like old times?"

"Yeah," Joe agreed. When Patrick shook his head, the guitarist turned to cajoling. "Come on, Trick. Come with. You shouldn't be left alone. Not tonight."

"I won't be," Patrick said, smiling a little. "Bronx is coming by later to keep me company and help me go through some of Pete's things. He had so much stuff that getting his shit together is going to take some time and God knows I don't know what to do with half of it." He put his hand on Joe's arm. "Another time. Okay?"

Joe nodded, unconvinced. "It's just...and I know this is a dumb thing to ask just now...but are you going to be all right?"

Patrick was silent for a long moment. "I don't know," he finally said, swiping at his eyes." I mean...Pete was my world for so long. Nearly sixty years." He let out a shaky sigh as he continued. "This morning I woke up and I could've sworn I saw him in the kitchen working on his ninth cup of coffee." They all smiled; Pete's caffine consumption had become legendary over the years. "One of his notebooks is still on the bedside table. His shoes are by the back door still covered in mud from when he took the dog out for a walk the day he died." A tear slowly began to roll down his cheek. "I loved him for so long and so much...he was everything to me. He still is." He looked at his bandmates, suddenly helpless. "What am I going to do without him?"

Not knowing what else to say or do, Joe pulled Patrick back into his arms. "Patrick...don't," he murmured as the singer began sobbing into his shoulder. "God, please don't." He threw Andy a helpless look. "Andy?"

Andy just shook his head and embraced them both. "It's okay, Trick," he said softly, tightening his hold on Patrick's too thin, too frail frame. "It's okay. We're here."

After awhile, Patrick stepped back and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry," he muttered.

"For what? Mourning your husband?" Joe snorted. "Don't be an idiot. If it was Marie, I'd be a basket case."

"And I'd be even worse," Andy agreed as he dug a tissue out of his pocket and handed it over. "So shut up."

Patrick looked at them both. His bandmates, his friends, but also his brothers. "I don't know what I'd do without you guys," he said, dabbing at his eyes. "Go insane, probably."

"Being with Pete so long, it's a wonder we're all as sane as we are," Andy commented with a wry little smile. "Sure you don't want to come back with us for a little while? We can all get drunk and trade stories about what an asshole he was."

"Yeah," Joe echoed hopefully. "I know I have quite a few."

Patrick shook his head again. "Next time. I promise. I have stories that will curl your hair." He turned to Joe. "Besides, aren't you babysitting later? You mentioned Ruby was coming over with the baby when we saw you last."

"She's at home getting spoiled by Ruby and Marie right now," Joe said. "You can come with," he offered. "I know they would both love to see their Uncle Patrick."

"I wouldn't be good company right now. Especially with a toddler." Patrick said as he gave Joe another, quicker hug. "Go. Go be with them both and give them a kiss for me. I'll be fine."

Andy snorted. "You have got to be the worst liar I've ever known," he said as he hugged Patrick as well. "I'll call you later. Okay?"

"Don't be surprised if I don't pick up," Patrick warned. "I have a feeling that the minute I get home I'm going to fall face first into bed and sleep for about a month."

"Wouldn't blame you. Try to eat something first. You're so pale I can see through you," Andy advised. "Call us when you come up for air so we don't worry. Okay?"

"I will."

"And if you need anything...even if it's just to pull a Pete and talk to one of us at two in the morning...you'd better fucking call," Joe advised. "Otherwise we'll come and hunt you down."

Patrick nodded again. "I won't run away, I promise," he said, offering them what he hoped as a reassuring smile. "I'll see you both again later." He watched them both walk down the aisle before turning his attention back to the alter and who was waiting for him.

"Hey," he whispered, straightening Pete's lapel. _He always looked so nice in a suit,_ he thought as he took the rosebud out of his own lapel, kissing it before putting it in Pete's. "It's just you and me left," he said as be brushed his fingers over his husband's lined face. "I miss you so much. Fourty years together...where did the time go?" He brushed another kiss alone his forehead. "My light, my life, my love...you're the only place that feels like home." Taking another rose off of the arrangement in front of him, he placed it in Pete's folded hands. "I love you."

Plucking another rose off of the casket to keep, he was about to turn away when a sudden crushing pain tore through his chest. He fell to his knees, about to cry out for help when he saw Pete standing in front of him, dressed in the white leather jacket he had worn in the "Save Rock And Roll" video. "Pete," he breathed, reaching out to take his husband's hand as he closed his eyes. "My Pete...my eighth wonder...take me home."

The priest found him lying next to Pete's coffin not more than an hour later, a white rose clutched in his hand and a smile on his face. 


End file.
